


soon we'll be away from here

by oatrevolution



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: AU, M/M, Obsession, Pacific Rim - Freeform, Sibling Incest, extreme codependence, questionable views on death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 09:25:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1092290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oatrevolution/pseuds/oatrevolution
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Loki fancies that sometimes they switch bodies and nobody notices."</p>
<p>Pacific Rim AU - Thor and Loki pilot a jaeger, naturally enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	soon we'll be away from here

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't that keen on the movie itself, but this just begged to be written and so here you go. It's the perfect concept.

They curl up together in the wreckage, against a chunk of debris, ash falling out of the sky like snow to settle in their hair. They are thin, dirty, wide-eyed and staring. Their knees are scuffed. One of them has no shoes.

Rescue crews will find them. But right now, they are alone. They cling to each other. They breathe the same air. Look into your brother’s eyes—it’s easier than remembering what came before. Remember a world of color and life. You have each other. Nothing can take that away.

They shake. Together. Staring. Remember the time we got lost in the woods overnight? Remember how when we came here our parents forbade us to go anywhere alone, afraid that might happen again? Remember how we stayed together, even then, and lived?

Remember?

 

In the Drift, they are so close to being one. Not Thor and Loki—Thorandloki. Lokiandthor. Loki remembers reading a book like that in school, before the end of the world. _The Lord of the Flies._ He smiles when he tells Thor that there are twins in it that the others call Samaneric. Nobody else calls them Thorandloki, but they do, secretly.

It’s easy to keep secrets from everyone else. They speak Norwegian to each other, mixed in with the special words that they invented when they were small. They were in California by chance, when their father took a post at a company there. So they lived on the Pacific coast when the kaiju came and now….

They don’t talk much about it. That day. They do not dwell on it in their memories. If it gets bad, they will retreat to their room and sit and clutch at each other’s hands and stare into each other’s eyes and breathe each other’s air. And then the bad feelings recede again.

 

They are put with other orphans after that day. Thor grows to be tall and strong and golden; Loki becomes tall and lean and dark. They are not suited to the same jobs, but they do everything together anyway. Sometimes they will work construction, where Thor excels, and they take the heights because Loki has perfect balance. Sometimes they will stay at the back of the city and help with food supplies or evacuation, to which Loki’s agile mind is suited, and Thor has learned to comfort sobbing children.

Occasionally they fight, but they both know that the anger will never last. Loki starts most of their battles. They’ll be evacuating civilians and Thor will have to take a group through separately, or other workers will clap him on the shoulder, grinning and praising his work, and Loki is consumed with jealousy and worry. What if one day Thor grows tired of him? They are brothers in experience if not in blood—that much is obvious—but perhaps Thor will discover that other people are more interesting, and less desperate, and he will drift away. Or what if, when he’s away with another group, he is hurt or killed and Loki isn’t there to be with him and hold his hand and then take something sharp and—

So he screams and throws things and sulks, and Thor trails after him, with that horrible hurt-confused-fretting look painted all over his face, and eventually Loki cannot bear to be furious with him any longer. When Thor gets up, he will sit him down and comb his hair himself, carefully binding it at the nape of his neck.

“We need to see a barber soon,” he says, pressing his thumb gently to the top of Thor’s spine.

And Thor tips his head back to smile at him and agree. So the storm passes.

 

On base, they share a room. It has two beds in it. They have slept in the same room for their entire lives and refuse to stop now. On some nights they even use both beds, but for the most part they share, curled tightly together, hands fisted in shirts. And sometimes they even do just sleep.

Coming together is natural. They fall into it, almost without even realizing. One night, in one of their many tiny rooms, after a fight, Loki shaves Thor’s cheeks to make up for it. When he is done, he puts the razor aside and kisses him, like it is normal, like they do this every night. It is beautiful and precious, even though they are both inexperienced, sloppy, but Loki thinks it is right, that they share this first time as they have shared everything else. And afterwards he could stay close, Thor’s hand warm and broad on his back, and touch his face, kissing everywhere his fingertips brush.

Having his brother with him, in him, on him—it is the closest they come to being one outside of the Drift. Together. Breathe, together. Move and pulse and breathe some more. Together. Synchronized. Perfect.

Nobody knows, of course. Perhaps they suspect, if they think about it. But they are brothers and it is easier to keep this secret as well. Thor is easygoing; the other pilots respect him, like him, even. He is easy to talk to. Sometimes Loki burns with jealousy again. How dare they talk to his brother? _His._ Thor belongs to him and he belongs to Thor. Thorandloki. They don’t need anything except each other. The rest of the world could burn and leave them alone together, lord knows _Loki_ wouldn’t care. Then Thor would only see him. All of his focus, all of his attention on _Loki._ Just Loki.

At best, he is indifferent to their comrades. At worst, he hates them. He wishes them dead. He imagines elaborate scenarios where they are crushed or burned or drowned or eaten by a kaiju. But then he remembers that another crew would just show up in their place, and Thor always looks so sad when he says these things. He loves Loki best, of course (he _does_ ) but he sees the worth in other people too.

On those days, Loki bares their skin and sets out to show Thor why he is the best, why only Loki can love him properly, his best friend and his brother and his lover. They move together in the dark and it’s like being in the Drift, together, one and the same. Thor in Loki, Loki in Thor, one’s hands on the other’s shoulders, what difference does it make? Like this, they are one person in two bodies.

Loki fancies that sometimes they switch bodies and nobody notices. One day, Loki is broad and golden, and another he has green eyes. He likes this thought. Then it feels like this body with the dark hair has housed both of them, and when he’s cloaked in its flesh he’s existing where Thor has existed, like both of them are in the same place at the same time. That would be wonderful. It is the most wonderful dream.

 

They are perfectly Drift compatible. Of course they are. They know this as soon as they hear the radio announcement about it. There are other people, other potential candidates, but they are perfect. Perfectly in step and perfectly in tune and nearly already Drifting as it is. They are admitted immediately.

And they _are_ in one body. Together. One huge body, metal and fire and electrodes, but it is _theirs._ They move it together. It is the dream made into reality. Thorandloki. Lokiandthor. They Drift together among every shared memory and every shared thought. They remember the forest when they were children. They remember that day, when their parents vanished into ash and dust. They remember standing at the very top of a massive structure, looking out into the sunset, hands twined together. They remember brushing hair and trimming beards. They remember lying together in the dark, warm and safe and _together._

Together, they move the giant limbs. Together, they look for kaiju and if they spot one, they move their arms. Together. It is so easy to slip into that frame of mind, the idea of oneness. They move like it is their body. Naturals.

If they die, they die together. They know this without even having to speak it. There is no surviving alone. If one dies—if he is snatched into nothingness—he won’t be alone for long. And in a jaeger, it will be so easy to die together. No being halfway across the city when one is crushed by a falling building, never to see his body again, never to touch his lips, never to hold him close and find something fatal, some way to join him. They are in a cockpit. Together. So close. A snap of huge jaws might even kill them both at once.

They don’t speak of it. The Drift does that for them. They understand. No life if it is not lived _together._

They like being alive. It has its perks. They are talented and if there have been close calls they have always gotten out of it, and then they can retire to their room and lose themselves in each other all over again. They will stay alive as long as they can. Perhaps, one day, the kaiju will stop coming, and then they can wander, see other places, learn new things. Or perhaps, one day, they will die. But either way, they will do it together.

No half measures.

 

He is your brother—your life, your soul. Remember the times you shared food when money was tight? Remember when they tried to put you in different dormitories, in the orphanage, and you crept into your brother’s bed every night until they moved you? Remember the first time you went into the Drift, together, so close, inside his head, and you knew how he felt about you, that deep, aching love, as big as the whole world, bigger, even, warmer than the sun and softer than his skin and so fierce and so encompassing that it was only matched by your love for him?

Remember?


End file.
